


Sherlollipops - Unafraid

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [73]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smut, Vamp!lock, Vamplock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3657846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know what I am. Don't you."<br/>"Vampire," she whispered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - Unafraid

**Author's Note:**

> Blood, biting, sex, and yes death but in a good (?) way, promise. Gorgeous artwork by flavialikestodraw, by commission.

“You aren’t afraid, Miss Hooper.”

She took a small step forward. Towards him, never removing her gaze from his. “No.”

She blinked, and he was right there in front of her. She let out a little involuntary gasp of startlement, swallowing hard as his hand drifted up to caress her throat. The feel of his cool flesh against hers startled her all over again; her high-collared blouse had been primly buttoned when she entered the room, and now her throat was exposed to the cool night air. She shivered, still not with fear although she refused to name the emotion coursing through her veins. “Why aren’t you afraid?” he asked, the deep baritone of his voice tinged with curiosity. “You know what I am. Don’t you.”

It wasn’t a question but she answered it anyway. “Yes,” she said, blinking rapidly as she tried to force her gaze back to his eyes, rather than focusing on his mouth – and the white tips of the fangs that now protruded over his full lower lip. With a trembling hand she reached up, slowly, oh so slowly placing her gloved fingers to his mouth, feeling the sharp points of his fangs easily piercing the soft kid of her gloves. “Vampire,” she whispered, saying the forbidden word.

He moved faster than her eyes could see, pinning her to the chamber wall, his eyes shining redly in the flickering gaslight of the sconce directly above her head as her heartbeat accelerated. “Vampire,” he agreed, his voice a deep growl, his fingers tightening on her throat enough to wrench her head to the side as he lowered his mouth so that it hovered just over her rapidly beating pulse. “And I’m afraid, Miss Hooper, one with a particular thirst for your blood.” His head descended and she felt his fangs piercing deep as he began drinking from her veins.

She felt his full lips sucking at the ruby drops that he drew from her fevered flesh, and gave a soft cry of surprise at how… pleasurable…it felt once the initial pain had faded. Her hands were on his shoulders, clinging tightly as he continued to drink; without thinking, she shifted one so that it rested on the back of his head, urging him closer. Soon he was pressed tightly to her, with only the layers of their clothing separating them: his mouse-coloured dressing gown and pyjamas; her corset, underclothes and the modest grey gown she’d donned for her evening’s excursion into the forbidden.

And oh, she understood exactly why such things were forbidden. Any woman, she thought deliriously as she fumbled to remove her gloves, would be unwilling to return to her staid, cold life after having felt so intimate a touch. Even if he drained her dry, killed her and left her body to rot in some hidden grave out on the moors, she wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Lord Holmes, it would seem, had no intention of killing her, at least not just yet; he’d removed his lips and withdrawn his fangs in spite of her whimpered protests, and had brought his long, pale hands up to work through the heavy tresses of her hair. She heard the pins she’d so painstakingly arranged fall clattering to the floor, and merely laughed as she finally managed to work her gloves off her hands. “Miss Hooper,” he growled, fingers moving so fast she could hardly see or feel them as he removed her clothing, “you are a singular woman, and quite the most interesting Vampire hunter I have ever had the privilege to meet.”

“Is it, is it because I didn’t come here to kill or expose you, but only to s-speak to you regarding your...condition?” Molly gasped out, her ungloved hands boldly reaching for the ties to his dressing-gown.

“Hmm, I suppose I do present an intriguing medical mystery for a pathologist and mortician’s assistant,” he said, his voice meditative and eyes gone unfocused. But only for the merest heartbeat; within seconds he’d returned to his feral assessment of her now-naked form. An eyeblink later, he was similarly unclad, standing behind her while her arms moved seemingly of their own volition to clasp his muscular flanks. He grasped her loosened hair in one hand and brushed the fingers of his other hand against her exposed breasts. Her nipples had automatically contracted with the cold, forming hard little nubs he seemed to find quite fascinating, and she was far from unaffected by his touch. “What, Miss Hooper, do you foresee as the outcome of tonight’s meeting?”

“Oh, I-I do hope it doesn’t end in death of course, but if it does, I believe it will be well worth it,” she moaned as he lowered his mouth to her throat and once again sank his fangs into her tender flesh. It stung a bit more this time, but as soon as his lips began their rhythmic sucking she found herself overwhelmed by a veritable tidal wave of pleasure. She was well versed in anatomy, but the rush of moisture between her legs still caught her off guard – as did the hot press of his erection against her posterior.

He pulled his mouth away and she whimpered yet another protest at the sudden lack of contact. His breath was hot on her ear as he murmured, “If I kill you, Miss Hooper, rest assured that it will only be so that I can bring you back as one of my kind. And that I shall do so only at your request, for the candidate must be truly willing else the transformation will fail. In the interim, however, I do hope you understand that I plan to feed from you and also make love to you until forced into my daytime sleep by the dawn’s arrival.”

“That,” she gasped as she felt his lips on the lobe of her ear, nibbling and kissing, “would be m-most agreeable, Lord Holmes.”

“Call me Sherlock,” he mumbled as he turned her to face him for a proper kiss – the first of her life. She tasted her blood on his lips, the same blood still trickling down her throat and staining his mouth and chin, and far from being repulsed was instead thoroughly intoxicated. She’d felt arousal before, but never like this, and gloried in the sensation as she opened her mouth to allow his tongue to sweep inside. He tasted of blood and tobacco and she knew she wished nothing more than to find out how other parts of his body might taste, blushing at her wanton thoughts but defiantly refusing to refute them.

Instead, she did as he’d bade. “Sherlock,” she breathed, and as if his name had been a signal she felt him pulling her closer, urging one leg up so that her foot rested on the tufted ottoman behind him. His fingers caressed her sex, sliding easily against the wetness between her legs, and she flushed even redder when she watched him bring those fingers up to his lips, sucking at them as greedily as he’d fed on her blood.

“Have you never tasted yourself, Miss Hooper?” he asked, his voice a taunt and a dare.

“Call me Molly,” she responded, shaking her head in answer to his question.

“Molly,” he said, lips curled in a feral smile as he brought his fingers to her lips. “Taste yourself.” Obediently she opened her mouth, sucking his fingers in and making a face at the sour muskiness.

Sherlock laughed. “It is an acquired taste, but never fear; there will be ample opportunity for you to learn to enjoy it as much as I do.” He pulled his fingers from her mouth even as he pulled her closer. She felt his erection between her legs, sliding in and out, hot and heavy, and dared to reach down to graze her fingers against the weeping slit at its tip. She was rewarded for her boldness by a slight gasp, and then suddenly he had himself in hand and was doing more than simply teasing her; a steady push, a slight tearing sensation, and then he was fully seated, deep inside her, unmoving as she became accustomed to the sensation.

Just as she’d finally decided the feel of him inside her was far less uncomfortable than married acquaintances had led her to believe – they all spoke of blood and pain and marital duty – he began to move and Molly discovered that she was not at all silent or mousy when a handsome, aristocratic Vampire had one arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding tightly to her hair, and his prick filling her as if they’d been designed for one another. The sweet friction was building with every thrust, and when he lowered his mouth to her throat and bit into her for the third time, she let out a cry of purest pleasure, gasping his name, begging him not to stop even as she shuddered through the aftereffects of her orgasm.

Moments later she felt the shuddering of his own release, and counted it a victory when he gasped out her name, the arm around her waist tightening almost painfully as he rested his forehead against her shoulder.

And when the night was ended and she lay in his arms, blood flowing freely from her body as her heartbeat slowed, she was content in the knowledge that she’d made the right decision in seeking him out: eternity by his side would be well worth the price of dying.

With that thought, Molly Hooper closed her eyes and breathed her last breath as a mortal woman.


End file.
